


A King's Burden

by Regal_Alliance



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regal_Alliance/pseuds/Regal_Alliance
Summary: Mewtwo's kingdom stands on the brink of collapse. Adversity is everywhere, even within his own walls. As if threats of war and treachery weren't enough, the king is at odds with a piece of himself he cannot control, a piece that in the wrong hands is a threat to his rule. Further complicating things is the arrival of a traveling dance troupe to the king's court, one such member of which is so exotic and alluring he captures Mewtwo's affection. The two inevitably find their web of secrets begin to intertwine. Can a lone greninja aid his king to a promising future? Or will their coupling spell doom for the entire kingdom?AU. Demo for a larger story.
Relationships: Mewtwo (Pokemon)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	A King's Burden

**Author's Note:**

> As you might have noticed in the description, this is an excerpt from a larger AU story idea. It's currently the only concrete thing written for it and would not take place anywhere towards the beginning, hence why some things may not be given proper context. You're probably able to figure out what motivated me to write this piece first.   
> To clear up just a bit of confusion, the greninja is pink rather than their natural blue color.

Mewtwo glided into his bed chambers long after the moon's white ribbons of light manifested above the castle. In their softness they sympathized with the monarch's exhaustive duties and now cascaded through the pale glass windows and curtains lining the walls to cradle the room in ghostly arms. Hearing the large oak-wood doors fall shut behind him, Mewtwo allowed himself an honest moment, his mask of discipline and strength he wore from dawn to dusk crumbling. He put his weight on the wall and rubbed at his temples, eyes cast downward, tail thumping against the floor, motivated by its owner's restlessness.

As if affairs with the foreign kingdoms weren't convoluted enough as it were, hearing word of the Johto military mobilizing at its border spun his thoughts into a cobweb of chaos. He should plan a counter measure…but how much more could he do? His commander was already notified of the danger and preparing their forces to respond accordingly. Perhaps it would be wiser to treat his mind to some rest, a relaxing night to prepare himself for the trials of the morning.

Yes. That was what he needed most. Solace in solitude, alone with his restless thoughts long enough to put a few of the nastier ones down. He would summon his closest servant, have a bath drawn. Rest his tired eyes as the gentle bathwater caresses his skin…

"Your highness. Taken quite a lot of interest in the carpet, have you?"

He straightened on impulse. The only voice he ever heard in his own quarters was that of his butler, and in his rumination, he hadn't sensed another presence nearby him. Yet this voice was familiar; it washed over him, soft yet assertive, playful as a glameow and serene as a gardevoir. His gaze pierced the dimly lit bedroom as he turned his gaze toward the impressive centerpiece, and the lounging figure sprawled across it. "That's more like it," the lone greninja said coyly, ghosting a hand down its leg in a slow, deliberate fashion. "It's true what they say, your eyes do shimmer so brilliantly in the dark, my lord…"

The dancer seemed a tiny thing atop such a massive bed, nestled in its vibrant blue linens as though he slept between the king's sheets every day. A pair of rubies glistened at the flustered monarch, amused at their ability to make royalty squirm without effort. He lay with his head on his arm and his elbow on a pillow, his long tongue unraveled from his neck and left trailing beside his thin body. An impressive body, at that: toned muscles met lean limbs, tan and bright pink skin enveloping every inch of the frog's form, a bouquet of tulips wrapped in satin.

Mewtwo felt the blood warm his cheeks in spite of the scowl he fought to maintain. Forcing a scoff at the dancer's comment, he hissed a simple, "How did you get in here?"

The lounging frog feigned a deep, breathy sigh. "Why is it every time we are fortunate enough to meet, you insist on pretending you aren't happy to see me?" As he sat up he noticed his onlooker locked in a struggle to ignore the creature's assets spread before him, as if the greninja's intentions had been anywhere else. The task of ignoring him was fashioned to be grueling, or else the intruder would have been more particular about how he chose to cover himself—or more fairly, how particular he had been in choosing _not_ to cover himself. He wore a small shirt and leggings spun from ariados silk, so spindly they were practically clear. His impressive pecs poked through the shirt, and the leggings around his waist did nothing to hide his excitement at having seen his target arrive. While he enjoyed this little game Mewtwo insisted on playing with him, his heart still ached for the king to gawk at him as he anticipated. He crossed his arms in a pout and sang, "And I went through so much trouble just to ensure we met privately this time~."

Mewtwo pretended not to take notice in the dancer's movements. "You haven't answered me. Do you know what would happen if anyone beside myself had stumbled across you?"

The intruder made a show of stretching his arms above his head. "Why, I'd have been so helpless and irresistible they'd have taken me where I lay." When Mewtwo didn't so much as snort at the jest, he added, "What, were you expecting other visitors? It was your own butler who let me in to begin with, your highness."

That droplet of information at last caused the king to stir. "Taylon?" Mewtwo couldn't fathom the servant inviting outsiders into his living quarters behind his back, even those he was quite familiar with himself.

"That would be the one." The dancer allowed himself a sly smile. "We mutually agreed you could use my company for the night, and it appears he forgot to have the windows shuttered all the way. A wonder that happened."

"You conspired with…" Mewtwo couldn't help but feel his expression soften, in spite of his butler's apparent carelessness. A king's privacy should not be surrendered so readily, he knew, though Taylon would never have allowed for such a rendezvous if he believed his master to be in any sort of danger. "I am flattered you two would consider my well-being so carefully," he said after a brief silence. The only sound within the chamber came from the pair of voices, and an occasional crackle of fire from the lanterns mounted on the walls. Though what he said was true, it proved impossible not to be conflicted. To do anything with the dancer aside escorting him out would be irresponsible at best, catastrophic at worst. A thousand possibilities of them getting caught, a thousand more of what would befall his kingdom. His restless mind gnawed at him, and when his eyes met the dancer's once again, he made himself look away. "I would like to share your company tonight, Cyren—would give almost anything for it, truthfully—only…"

"Ah, that's a relief. Here I thought my lord would turn me out half nude unto the night without claiming his prize." Cyren slipped gracefully from the bed, ruby eyes flickering as they watched the king turn away in shame for looking on the dancer's body with such hunger. "Mewtwo. Look at me."

Mewtwo abided the command, though Cyren could see the longing buried deep in those swirling purple eyes, those galaxies, could see the sore stiffness in his posture as he propped himself up on dignity and duty. His responsibilities towards the kingdom were crushing him, the greninja thought sadly, wishing there were more a simple performer could do than drag his mind away from it for an hour or two before reality set back in. _Perhaps in another life, were I born a woman and him the king he thinks they need._ "Now, I'm sure it's some sort of blasphemy for a low-born scum-sucking dancer who squats in whatever town will have him to suggest he understands the daily obstacles a man of your stature faces, but I believe I do." He began to take long, slow strides towards his lover, putting all the confidence he could muster in his steps, never taking his gaze off the crestfallen king. "I believe I can see the strain that's been placed on you, at the very least." Only a few more lengths of the carpeted floor remained between them. "I may not be able to shoulder that burden with you for very long, but…" He got as close to the king as he dared, reaching out a webbed hand to take Mewtwo's in his own. "Well, I suppose I won't pretend my actions are entirely selfless." Cyren could feel the psychic's warm breath cradle his face. "I think the both of us need each other more than we care to admit. We have to trust ourselves as we do each other, my noble lord." He curled his free arm behind his motionless lover. "Tomorrow's trials are far away. Will you permit me to pleasure you tonight?"

Mewtwo could hold himself back no longer. He plunged his lips into the Cyren's suddenly, clenching his hand tight as a lock and reaching around to pull him closer. He reveled in their closeness, in the feeling of his lover eagerly pushing against him through the thin strip of cloth around his waist. His own garments became uncomfortably tight as his fingers massaged the smooth velvet of Cyren's backside, his lips pressed tighter against those of his partner, his tongue venturing out to explore the mouth that surrendered itself to his. Cyren threw himself into the king's embrace, making a show of moaning as loud as he could with an invader between his lips. He wanted the psychic pokémon to know his desire to give himself over utterly, figuring his largely uncovered prick stirring under his paper-thin coverings would be more than enough to convey his desperation.

Mewtwo broke their kiss as suddenly as he started it, feeling several weights lighter than he had only a few moments before, leaning downward to suckle on the greninja's neck. "My apologies for acting so callous, Cyren my sweetling," he murmured between strokes of his tongue on the warm flesh. He nestled his partner closer as he continued, "You were right to assume my mind's been in a haze. I've allowed my duties as leader of this realm to get the better of me, I'm afraid."

"Mmm…" The dancer found thinking up a response to be troublesome with Mewtwo's mouth at his neck. "It would a-appear that way. I wonder h—ah! How your majesty will atone for a-all his misdoings towards his m-mistress." Cyren forced his hands to go to work undoing the ornament robes adorned by his partner. "Riches? Gemst—stones? Or maybe something a b-bit more…exclusive." By then Mewtwo had taken notice of his partner's efforts to undress him, straightening himself to make the task easier and removing his boots as well. The dancer grinned as the robe loosened enough to fall to the floor, leaving Mewtwo's top half bare. Unlike his partner, Cyren bothered not to mask his ogling, eyes wandering his majesty ravenously. The psychic was well-built, a bit more muscular than his partner with skin fair as a freshly fallen field of snow. Entrapping his desire to rip the smallclothes off the lord and guide him elsewhere proved to be almost too much for Cyren to handle.

"Awfully bold for a 'lady' of the night to demand such compensation from royalty," Mewtwo said with a low timbre, his voice a whisper. Cyren repressed a shiver as a strong hand slid under his shorts to caress his rear. "And I recall telling you I had no interest in bedding mistresses." Time slowed, eager for the dancer's response.

He leaned in, teased a kiss for the king and moved so Mewtwo could feel the breath against his ear as he spoke. "Prove it."

And Mewtwo moved to. A grunt slipped through his lips as he lifted Cyren off his feet, holding him close as the pair drifted towards the moonlight-draped bed on the far side of the room. Cyren curled up in his lover's embrace, savoring the short venture as one might savor the peace of lying in a hammock on the beachside. He felt himself lower onto the king's familiar mattress, instinctively spreading his legs just wide enough to excite his captor. His pink prick twitched in anticipation while Mewtwo's gaze drank in every drop of the water pokémon's slim form. A shadow fell over him as the monarch leaned forward and placed a kiss on his head. He shivered as a pair of hands gripped his sides and a psychic force gripped his back, the former pulling and the latter tearing an article of clothing off simultaneously until he was completely bare. His face a furnace, he watched Mewtwo set his clothes neatly by the bedside, a gentleman to an excessive degree.

"Sorry, did I wander into the bedroom or the washroom?" Cyren breathed, struggling to keep his voice sultry and confident. He reached to cup Mewtwo's smooth cheek in his hand, using the other to twirl his burning cock that had so far gone ignored. " _Must_ milord make me compete with mine own leggings for his affection? We can take care of the dirty laundry afterward…"

Mewtwo maintained a thin smile, wondering which of them would win the battle of patience they knowingly engaged. He covered his lover's hand with his own, tracing every line with delicate precision, simultaneously pulling at the waistband of his remaining garb. "Hmm…as enamored as I am at the prospect, I will set aside my excitement if my love insists…"

It was all Cyren could do not to leap at the first sight of Mewtwo's half-masted sword springing from its sheath. Even as his excitement pulsed his face remained a steely calm, and Cyren couldn't help but be impressed (and a little annoyed) with the monarch's temperance. At last the dancer felt himself smothered by his lover as Mewtwo bent over and brought their lips together, pressing his bulkier body onto the other, pinning him to the mattress. Cyren let out a high, breathy moan as Mewtwo's lips traced the side of the greninja's face down to his neck where he began to kiss—

"—Ah!" Cyren cried out like a caged animal, unused to his body being ravaged so passionately. As his exposed neck was nibbled a firm pair of hands caressed his sides as though afraid he would attempt to struggle free. Two hearts pounded one after the other, one racing, one as calm and purposeful as ever. Cyren had hardly the mind to be angry, pleasure senses skyrocketing and scattering any thought that didn't concern his skin making contact with his lover. Although he knew it was in Mewtwo's nature, the dancer couldn't help but feel he was failing to ignite that same level of passion he felt for his partner. He turned a half-lidded gaze downward when he felt something smooth graze his member, and nearly lost his composure again when he saw his partner's swollen cock hovering just beside his own, its tip wearing a glistening cap of precum.

A devious grin set Cyren's face. Perhaps he wasn't hopeless in exciting the monarch after all…

Mewtwo gasped at the initial touch, then shivered as a set of webbed fingers wrapped around the top of his manhood. He felt it being pulled downward until it met with something hard and long, then squeezed, sandwiched between his lover's hand and the thick rod that accompanied it.

Cyren almost chuckled watching the Mewtwo's collectedness collapse into a rubble of shock and bliss. Slowly, lovingly, he began to move his hand up and down their dicks, able to stroke them both off from his advantageous position. The sweat coated folds of his partner's cock smeared against his own almost sent the dancer into a frenzy, his mouth agape as strings of precum oozed out from both their tips. Their pace quickened as their members slickened, Mewtwo finally losing himself to the overwhelming riptide of sensations. He practically dragged himself over his lover in an effort to reunite their lips, two hearts now beating in fierce unison. Mewtwo's tongue darted into Cyren's mouth, hungry, as his hands grasped at any part of the dancer's bare flesh they could, no longer concerned with holding himself up.

After what could have been a few minutes or a lifetime, Cyren felt his cock throbbing harder than his own heart and pulled away from his lover's lips, threatening to finish too soon. "Mmm, Mewtwo," he cooed, taking his hold off their cocks and using his other, less sticky hand to cup the monarch's cheek. "You're so warm…and _hard…_ I'm afraid I can't wait any longer."

Mewtwo prayed Cyren hadn't seen his tail shiver in anticipation. "I know, my love," he whispered, cursing his voice for sounding so desperate, shaking and catching on every syllable. He held Cyren by the waist and used his powers to slide him further up the bed. Beneath him the dancer wriggled to make himself comfortable as he felt his rear being lifted, poised and spread for the guest it desired to harbor. Mewtwo saw Cyren smile.

"Having me on my back this time, is that it?" Cyren mewled, staring down his own body and up his partner's only inches above it to meet Mewtwo's lustful stare. "It would please you to have me watch?"

Mewtwo felt his tail curl, losing control of his own body, as his breath hitched and his mind raced to say something, anything. "…It would."

A shadow fell over the dancer as his partner took over a new demeanor. The words crawled from between his lips, slow, careful, just as he crawled to envelope Cyren with his entire being, make him forget that anything but the two of them had ever existed, that either's universe had space for anything but the other. "I want to be able to capture every line on your lovely face, to see your eyes roll back in serenity, to watch your lips soft as rose petals mouth my name as I claim you as my own."

Now it was Cyren's turn to be at a loss for words. "…Oh."

No sooner had that single syllable been uttered that Mewtwo pressed against the entrance spread before him. Cyren cried out, patience deserting the monarch as he dug into his lover's ass with an uncharacteristic ferocity. In a way the dancer knew he had succeeded as his insides were stretched to accommodate for the rapidly encroaching member, almost coming to regret having gotten this far. Searing pain he could not accommodate for shot through his ass, muscle tearing every second that passed, a chasm etched deeper every instant. Words failing him, there was little Cyren could do but grip the sheets as reality was torn away.

The gentle, mindful monarch was dormant; in his place was someone tired of the teasing, tired of the games, tired of being patient and holding responsibility above all else. Instead he held his lover's hips in an iron tight grip aided by psychic powers, dragging him down until a burning warmth engulfed his aching prick tip to base. A certain possessiveness overcame him; claiming the twisting mass whimpering his name became his right, the duty to himself he had ignored so long.

"M-Mewtwo!"

Mewtwo snapped from his trance when his cock became fully buried in his lover's ass, Cyren's voice rising to drown out his own thoughts. It was the first time he noticed how wrecked the greninja appeared, limbs shaking and sprawled in random directions, drenched in sweat, and ruby eyes begging Mewtwo to slow down without saying a word. He halted his assault on his lover's insides long enough to caress Cyren's face, his shallow breaths betraying the guilt he felt. "Cy-Cyren, forgive me, I…"

"It's alright!" Cyren's hand shot up to cover the other's, giving it a squeeze to crush his doubts. Despite the numbing pain that ripped through him he fixed his gaze on Mewtwo, forcing a half-honest smile. "J-just, give me a moment to adjust, p-please…"

With a nod Mewtwo allowed his nerves to relax, just a bit, enough to trap the panic stirring in his veins. At his instinct's disapproval he held himself still as the beautiful dancer below him shifted around his pulsing cock, making the act of restraining himself all the more taxing. He watched as that pained look drained from Cyren's face at a gradual pace, though the discomfort the dancer attempted to hide remained plainly obvious. "How fair you, my love?" Mewtwo asked, nuzzling into Cyren's neck as though he could feel when his lover was ready.

"Better, but, ah…" The greninja returned Mewtwo's affection the best he could as he croaked out a reply. In truth, while his insides were no longer screaming at every twitch of his partner's member, Cyren remained about as comfortable as an onix balanced atop a unicycle. His free hand ghosted Mewtwo's bare chest, just as lost as the rest of him. As his eyes trailed down the psychic's built body something stirred within his mind that he couldn't shake off. "Pull out, love. I have an idea I'm certain we're both to like."

The suggestion stung Mewtwo at first, though he did as the dancer asked without hesitation. He heard Cyren grunt as his tight inner walls became free of its invader, felt a gentle push at his center coaxing him into a sitting position. A kiss caused his breath to hitch, brief as it was. Pressing on his partner's shoulders Cyren rose above him. A devious flash in his eyes caused Mewtwo to shudder. He had caught on to the dancer's plan just as a firm grip on his dripping member confirmed his suspicions. He found no reason to object while he drank in the sight of Cyren positioning his ass over his cock, leaving the monarch a rather pleasing view of a semi-flaccid dick and balls dangling inches from his body.

"Mmm, I'm liking this better already," cooed Cyren, lowering onto Mewtwo's eager member with just a hint of caution. A pleased cry found its way out his lips as the king's tip eased past his outer wall and into now charted territory awaiting rediscovery. "Feels appropriate, getting to do the heavy lifting for my lord~."

"Please, t-take care you don't hurt yourself, for my sake." Mewtwo's breath was all but gone, not that he had the presence of mind to make much use of it. Having more and more of his length buried in Cyren's warm caverns, smothered on all sides by a wall of thick pink muscle was more stimulus than he could comprehend. He slid his hands down to Cyren's hips to help him with the task of fitting all of the monarch. "C-Cyren!"

The glass dam holding back his excitement shattered when he heard Mewtwo udder his name with such desperation, and like a raging torrent he surged downward until his partner's entire cock had pierced him and his bottom crashed into Mewtwo's waiting lap. Pain followed as expected, though not as blinding as before. What intoxicated Cyren more was the sight of his once composed partner's expression painted with half-lidded eyes and his tongue hanging from his mouth like a dog's. Now able to handle all of Mewtwo from his advantageous position, his enjoyment at being able to please him in such a manner became more prominent than second-hand. Of course, his own desire to be filled and claimed still remained, evident by the blood rushing once again to his own nether regions and causing his cock to inflate, though not so much as bouncing on his beloved's dick, working him to a climax, hearing his name screamed because he was all that mattered to the pokémon who mattered most.

Cyren pulled Mewtwo into another kiss as though to resuscitate him, and without any further delay began to lift himself off the prick in his rear, lower back down, up, down, at a rhythm natural as drawing breath. This time he bit down on the pained whimpers that came from the friction as he got himself started, able to accompany the length a bit better with gravity as his accomplice. Every encounter he had swallowing the cock whole made it that much more bearable, until the act didn't hurt half so much as how _good_ it felt.

Mewtwo was mesmerized by Cyren's hips, rising and falling like waves, pumping with the force and fluidity of the ocean. The overwhelming senses hitting him all at once made the task of timing his thrusts with Cyren's descent difficult. Of course, persevering was made all the easier by the endless bouts of pleasure thumping throughout his nervous system, making him numb to anything else but the friction on his cock and his lover's limbs wrapped tightly around his waist. Towards the back of his mind where the electricity of his partner didn't quite reach, a lingering fear loomed over his subconscious. He feared for his lover should he be discovered; he feared for what would become of the pair after that night, having broken that final boundary of closeness that had remained between them; but with even more prominence he dared to wonder how any of their actions that night could ever be considered wrong, wonder why he could not be joined by his lover as he dreamed, as they deserved, could not be seen with him as they were. In an instant he had locked the thought away quick as it appeared, choosing the moment over the future and saving all of his energy for Cyren, the only one with the right to command it so.

It was after dismissing those thoughts that Mewtwo noticed his lover's dick at full mast, quivering and bouncing unattended like a flag left up through a storm, and without so much as blinking the psychic concentrated his power on squeezing it so his hands could stay mounted on Cyren's hips.

Cyren cried out, loud enough to wake up every servant in the castle and hardly caring if he did so. He scolded himself for having been caught so off guard by Mewtwo's metaphysical fondling, unable to deny the strange, suffocating sensation in brought to his previously ignored member. As if stroked by a crew of invisible fingers, the extra attention only heightened the euphoria he gained from riding his partner, the hefty cock pounding at his ass every second. To make his affection known, the greninja curled his tongue around the back of Mewtwo's neck, pulling him in so Mewtwo could nibble at Cyren's shoulder. Immediately, the royal complied.

Cyren moaned again.

Hearing his lover encapsulated by such bliss served for Mewtwo as a reminder to how close he was himself, each thrust becoming a calculated effort should he push himself over the edge. Desperate to prolong their time together, in his head he knew there was only so much he could take before the clenching mass coaxed out Mewtwo's seed. "Cyren," he mustered between breaths, the question struggling on his tongue, "Where…where would you like me to finish?"

Oscillating with ecstasy, Cyren fought to reply. "I-inside! Claim me as your—Ah—!"

As the answer left Cyren's mouth Mewtwo hit a particular spot with a jolt that revved his pace into overdrive. Cyren bounded up and down like a pendulum, sick of his partner fighting back and holding in that last burst of energy the pair both craved. They could savor the moment when it arrived; Cyren needed that release _now_.

Sensing Cyren's elation and frustration reaching its peak, Mewtwo grabbed his partner by the shoulders and shoved him down onto his prick as hard as he could. He vaguely remembered hearing that sweet, elegant voice screaming his name, and the tightness that shot out of him in its rush to fill the constricting space around it. In a few more thrusts his mind started to come back to him, the last of his warm white semen escaping into Cyren's ass.

Cyren let out a bewildered sigh as he was filled. He realized a bit too late that he wasn't sure how the warm, sticky liquid would feel in his most private of areas, deciding after the initial surprise he didn't mind it. His breath caught as he clutched Mewtwo tighter with everything he had, his unfinished tip pressing into the monarch's stomach as though further teasing him.

Mewtwo took note of his partner's resilience, and despite himself becoming a panting mess he relinquished his psychic hold on Cyren's cock to stroke it manually, rubbing his thumb over Cyren's tip, wanting the dancer to finish from a more personal touch. When Cyren came he did so in a more relaxed fashion, emitting a bizarre humming sound not unlike a feline's purr. Mewtwo allowed his partner's seed to leave delighted splotches on his chest and dribble over his hand, choosing not to care about the mess, so absorbed with the look of content on the other's face. Afterwards the pair found it difficult to move, let alone muster up much to say. Mewtwo found that the situation and their breathless forms spoke for themselves, cupping Cyren's cheek in his dry hand and running a finger along his lips.

"Cyren…thank you."

The dancer allowed his rubies to shine into his lover's twin galaxies. "No need for thanks," he said, "I'd say by the look of us we each got our fair share of enjoyment from this." Cyren moved to unhook himself from Mewtwo's cock, feeling a ping of disappoint wash over him when they were no longer together so intimately. "I suppose we should get cleaned up a bit, unless your fine sleeping like your coated with combee honey," he joked, taking careful note of the sight of his lover dripping with his seed.

"…Yes." Mewtwo worked out a response, a bit distracted by the greninja's ass overflowing with semen as he picked himself up. "I'll fetch us a towel. Unless you plan on getting creative with that tongue of yours."

Cyren scoffed at Mewtwo as he rose from the bed. "Wouldn't you like that, naughty little king~."

Not long had passed before Mewtwo had the dancer in his arms under the sheets, the two making idle chatter while they curled up together. The spent pair hadn't much time before they began to drift to sleep, Mewtwo's eyes on the creature in his arms while he held onto the last of his worries. "Cyren, is it cruel of me to ask something of you at this instant?"

Cyren turned to look at him. "Depends," he began, his voice low and soft. "Does it require me to do anything but lay here with you?"

"That is exactly what I mean." Mewtwo brought his love close for one last kiss. "Come morning, we'll wake in that cruel world which would keep us apart." He took Cyren's hand in his, gripping it with all the purpose in the world. "Promise me you'll still be here at my side."

Cyren didn't speak at first, merely closed his eyes and curled his body against the other's, wrapping him in an embrace that wouldn't part for anything. "What a silly request…"

And as Mewtwo drifted to sleep, he understood him exactly.


End file.
